


ode to black

by shestepsintotheriver



Series: Witcher shorts [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: 500 words, Flash Fic, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Short One Shot, Yearning, soft, very soft M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27280591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shestepsintotheriver/pseuds/shestepsintotheriver
Summary: in which Jaskier loves Geralt's eyes
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher shorts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991848
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85





	ode to black

A Witcher’s eyes are distinctive, not easily mistaken. Jaskier finds them beautiful, as he does most things concerning Geralt; he loves their sharpness, their otherworldliness, even loves the way they reflect the smallest traces of light when all is dark, beastly rather than human. He loves them in spite of their history, in spite of how Geralt had once raged at no one, “How do you like my eyes?” in the middle of a fever, pain and despair clear in his voice.

There’s nothing quite like a Witcher’s eyes.

 _Except_ for a Witcher’s eyes in the rush of one of their potions.

Jaskier cannot get it out of his head. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so enchanted had Geralt not tried to hide himself from him. Normally so blunt, so stubborn about holding eye contact, when his eyes go black, Geralt looks away, doesn’t meet Jaskier’s eyes.

It drives Jaskier to distraction, makes him come along on jobs that even he knows are too dangerous. Anything to see the black overtake Geralt’s eyes, the pupils first expanding to swallow the yellow irises, then veining out across the sclerae, until all is black and bottomless, until the veins beneath his eyes runs dark all the way to his cheeks.

What Jaskier wouldn’t do to have that gaze fixed on him; prostrate himself, act as bait, play the idiot.

But Geralt doesn’t meet his eyes.

It only gets worse after they start fucking. After the first time Geralt locks eyes with him while he moans and comes, after the first time Geralt keeps his eyes open while they kiss, unwilling to waste a single moment not watching Jaskier's pleasure. After every time Geralt meets his eye in a tavern, across a campfire, on the road to anywhere. He meets Jaskier’s eyes when humanity irks him, when it makes him chuff, when there’s no one around.

He meets Jaskier’s eyes.

Except when he doesn’t.

Despite the love confessions Jaskier kisses into his skin after a hunt. Despite the tenderness in Jaskier’s touch when his fingertips trace the darkened veins.

 _Don’t put it into your songs,_ Geralt says. _They see me as a monster already,_ he doesn’t say.

So Jaskier doesn’t breathe a word, not even when he wants to tear the world apart for looking down on Geralt. When it begs him for his help and denies him any comfort in return. He doesn’t breathe a word when people look at Geralt with awe and lust, and jealousy and pride fill Jaskier’s chest. They look, but they do not see. Only Jaskier gets to do that.

Except when he doesn’t.

He should not begrudge Geralt this boundary. He knows this. And yet, he aches.

 _My lover’s eyes are black as pitch_ , Jaskier softly sings, just for the two of them.

Only to gasp when Geralt looks up and meets his eyes, his gaze dark and deep. He stares and Geralt lets him, doesn’t fidget, doesn’t shy from him.

Their eyes meet. And hold.


End file.
